Eternal Night (I) Chapter 4: Francesca Chase, a van helsing fanfic

A huge thanks to the undisputed G.O.A.T.'s that took the time to review this week - Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, Riona Winters (aka: PW lost to time), Arwen17evenstar, Kylria, and FallinAngelGirl. And a special thank you to those that are still reading quietly in the background. I see you in my stats. Would love to hear from you if/when you have the time.

Well, we finally get to spend some quality time with Francesca in this chapter. She and Dracula's paths will cross again soon enough, but we've got a little more ground to lay first... Enjoy!

Chapter 4
Francesca Chase

Darkness.

Beautiful, soothing darkness.

The blissful reprieve of unconsciousness had abandoned her a while ago, yet Frankie continued to hold the linens of her bed tightly to her figure. Cocooned between the cool and gentle weight of a down comforter and the flawless support of an expensive mattress, she willed herself deaf as the sound of her elder brother's singing came drifting down the hall. But no matter how hard she tried to block him out and succumb to complete and utter relaxation, she could not win.

He had awoken her from stasis nearly a week ago now, and still she continued to deny herself a proper feeding, which left her strength far more depleted than it should have been. But if Francesca Chase was anything, she was stubborn, and with clenched-shut eyes and furrowed brows, she fought her growing conscious state, desperate to stay in the hollow, numbing relief of a dreamless sleep.

Like death without the commitment.

Frankie had no desire to face the world outside her bedroom – the toil and endless hardship, the evil, the memories. Reason told her that she could not wallow in self-pity forever, but finding the will to climb out of the familiar hole of depression had proven more difficult than usual. Not only was the chasm deeper than what she was accustomed to, but even her bones felt heavier, afflicted with guilt and past disappointment.

And worse – the apathy.

That numbness.

It was almost worse than the sorrow, the despair – to feel nothing, yet everything. A state of contradiction, a slowly creeping madness that she was too tired to fight against.

Frankie logically understood that she was not wholly to blame for what happened, but the emotional burden continued to linger, proving just as obstinate as she was.

If it had been up to her, she would have stayed in hibernation for all eternity, until the world had finally ended and the day of judgment had come. Thankfully, she supposed with a bit of ire, God had blessed her with an equally tenacious brother who loved her when she could not love herself.

As if on cue, the door to her bedroom opened, light from the hall flooding out the darkness. Her brother, Rémy, entered without invitation, the catchy thumping of a familiar beat pulsating through the air as some now-obscure early 2000s pop song blared from the stereo speakers out in the living room.

"Come on, Frank – no rest for the wicked," he announced, reaching for the switch on the wall to turn on the light over Frankie's bed.

"Is that why you're up at this ungodly hour?" she grumbled into her pillow. "The sun doesn't set for a while longer."

He ignored her baited remark.

"Come on! You have an appointment at the office with Rob and we can't leave until I get you sun-proofed, so let's go! Up, up, up!"

"Sun-proofed?"

"New tech I developed while you were out. It's much easier to produce than those pesky daylight charms we've been relying on for the last two centuries and a lot more difficult to misplace," Rémy explained as he threw open her closet doors, starting to rummage through her wardrobe to find something for her to wear.

She knew from experience that he was only doing this in the hopes of irritating her enough so she'd get out of bed, but he'd have to try a little harder.

"What's wrong with my daylight ring?"

"Nothing's the matter with it. I'm sure it still works fine – wherever it is."

"What do you mean wherever it is?"

"I may have lent it to Lily who lost it in a raid last year."

"You what?" That got her out of bed. "Who the hell is Lily and why did you think it was okay to loan out my stuff to complete strangers? Besides, what happened to Ioana?"

"Ioana and I broke up a month after you went under."

"I've been out of stasis for almost a week and you're only just telling me this?"

"It wasn't relevant before now. If you must know, Lily and I've been dating for almost two years. I didn't say anything because I figured you would have sniffed her out by now."

"Don't bait me by trying to change the subject. You lent out and then lost my ring, Rémy. I've had that since 1830! It was a gift," and she snatched the blouse out of his hand so she could put it back. There was no way in hell she was wearing actual color today. Black was the only thing to suit her present disposition.

"It's not like it was lost intentionally," her brother insisted. "Besides, I think you'll like my alternative."

"So long as it doesn't involve cutting into my body, I'm sure it'll be fine."

Ten minutes later found Frankie lying face down on a cold metal slab in a hidden medical room within their flat. The cool steel of a scalpel sliced very carefully along the back of her neck and she gripped the edge of the table to keep from squirming.

"This better be worth it, Reynaund, or I swear I'll..."

"Stop being such a baby. I've barely cut you."

"Doesn't mean it still doesn't hurt."

"It'd be a lot less painful if you'd feed like a normal vampire," he retorted without missing a beat and she snapped her mouth shut. She couldn't see him, but Frankie could sense the smug expression he was wearing, knowing that he was in the right. "This self-destructive kick you're on really needs to stop, by the way."

Her sigh was her "I know" and that was the end of the conversation as her attention readily returned to the pain in her neck.

The feel of having his latex covered fingers digging into the open wound along the upper portion of her spine was breathtaking as he carefully pushed back the muscle surrounding the delicate bones before placing something small – about an inch in length – on top of the vertebrae. Whatever it was, she could feel its many appendages latching onto her spine and then a peculiar warmth shot down her back, spreading out to her fingers and toes before it dissipated into nothingness.

When the incision had healed of its own volition, she sat up, reaching to touch the spot where her brother's surgical blade had been and she sent him a disapproving look.

"What did you just stick in me?"

"You know that force-field bubble Uncle Armand invented a little over half a century ago? The one he uses to shield the family estate from UV rays?"

She merely nodded, rubbing the spot on her neck, her touch making the remaining scar tissue dissolve away until her skin was flawless once more.

"It's like that, only much smaller, and it forms to the shape of your body – latches on to your skeletal structure and then radiates out. That way we can walk around during the day and pass off as humans. Keeps us under the radar. And it's EMP-proof."

"I take it you can't explain the how without the technobabble?"

He chuckled, but that was all he offered by way of response.

"So was it my lost ring that inspired this invention of yours or something else?"

"The council's special police started using these wands that work like metal detectors a while ago, only they detect the magical energy emitted by the daylight charms. Started checking people after the latest round of curfews went into effect."

"I assume that's how my ring got lost?"

"Yeah. Lily and I were trying to shake a couple of palace grunts and had to leave your ring behind. I thought it would still be somewhere in the sewers of the east side of the city where we had left it, but it's a maze down there and I could never find it."

"I suppose it doesn't matter. It served its purpose," Frankie insisted with a hint of defeat. "So is this new contraption of yours a one-and-done deal or will it need to recharge at some point?"

"Lyra's been wearing the prototype for over a year now and hasn't run into any problems."

"Please don't tell me you tested this thing on her."

"Hey, she volunteered!" Rémy said with a laugh as he discarded of his gloves, careful not to touch his sister's blood.

"I look forward to the day when you two aren't trying to kill each other."

"It's not my fault your best friend is a psychopath."

"She's more charmingly unhinged than psychotic," Frankie replied with the faintest of smiles – the first one she had worn since she had woken up. It was small, but her brother had noticed it and it gave him hope.

Absentmindedly scrubbing the short beard on his face with his hand once through, Rémy tousled his dark brown hair and then clapped his hands together once as if he'd made a decision.

"Alright then – you go shower and get ready. I've got to make a phone call."

"You still haven't told me why I'm meeting with Rob in the first place," she reminded him as he started to make his way out of the room. "I don't write for Veritas anymore. You know that."

"Yes, well, technically you never quit. You just went on hiatus. Besides, he has an assignment for you that I think you should consider taking. Could be a huge break for the alliance."

"Doesn't that basically translate to you having an assignment for me?" she corrected with a knowing look, but that smile of his never faded.

"I refuse to spoil the surprise."

"I hate surprises."

"I know. Now in the shower with you. He told us not to be late, so… do your thing," and with that, Rémy exited from the room.

Though his positivity had the reputation of being infectious, his absence meant the distraction was gone and Frankie was left to the droning gloom of her thoughts.

Soundlessly, she made her way back to her bedroom and into the connecting washroom.

The steaming water of the shower felt like heaven on her skin some short minutes later, but the reprieve it provided was miniscule when compared to the deep, cold ache that had long since set into her bones. She needed to feed. She knew this, and yet the brief flash of memories she wished she could forget effectively ruined whatever appetite she had. Dwelling in this silence was maddening. Frankie had grown weary of it – this constant state of unyielding pain.

So she made quick work of her personal preparations and within a half-hour she emerged from her room, clean, dressed, and ready to face the evening.

She found Rémy seated in front of his laptop at the dining room table, the television on, though he was clearly not paying any heed to it.

As Frankie made her way to join him, a name spoken from the TV briefly caught her attention, causing her to pause in the center of the room.

"An update on our top story this week: there has still been no word regarding the sudden disappearance of the remains of our sovereign, Vladislaus Drăculea," the anchorwoman announced. "Three days ago, it was discovered that his tomb had been desecrated, the remains of six innocent workers discovered – mutilated beyond recognition. It is believed that this attack is directly linked to a series of other anarchistic acts of violence executed by the so-called alliance, a terrorist organization believed to be made up of a cult of extremists who have been protesting the Augustine administration since our king went into stasis nearly thirty-six years ago."

Frankie sent her brother a look and Rémy merely shrugged.

"Not us," he assured her. "Although there's a wager you might want to get in on. Lyra is betting that Augustine's behind the disappearance and is using us as his cover. Carmen and I are thinking that the old bat is still in his tomb and this whole thing is just another weak ploy of Augustine's to make us look bad."

"Whatever the reasons, it seems to be working," she replied with noted solemnity, returning her attention to the television. "Have you heard from Isabella at all?"

"The wolves claim to have had nothing to do with this."

"I didn't think they would. If they had gone through all that trouble to break into the palace, it would have been to free Vivian, not ransack some egomaniac's insipid tomb."

"You should try telling Danny that. He's still convinced the wolves had something to do with it."

"They'd have no reason to. The lycans are our allies, not our enemies."

"Ha! Try telling Isabella that."

Frankie was about to ask what he meant when the story on the news distracted her once again.

"Here's what Lord Augustine had to say on the matter," the anchorwoman continued. The shot on the screen then changed to a familiar face that sent a noted chill through Frankie's body as Marcus Augustine appeared, standing in front of the palace with the council of seven situated behind him.

"We are all deeply disturbed by this senseless tragedy," Augustine declared with a false sense of righteous indignation. "How much longer must we endure the threat of these terrorists, the so-called alliance? They have continued to dismantle this city's sense of peace and security and now they have struck at the very heart of us by stealing the remains of our beloved king. What they plan to do with him, we know not, but one thing is certain. This is an act of treason, an act of war. These rebels – this cowardly organization that insists on hiding in the shadows – they will not prevail! We will eradicate them from the face of this earth and then and only then will we have peace once more. If you know anything about the alliance – their members, their leaders, or any supporters – I implore you, from one citizen to another, please come forward. Help us stamp out this evil before any more innocent blood is spilled."

Thoroughly disgusted and unwilling to listen to any more of his carefully woven lies, Frankie snatched the remote resting on the sofa and switched off the TV. Although the silence that followed was almost tangible in the air, she could not escape the sound of Augustine's voice echoing in her head. Something dark awoke in her at the sound – an unquenchable wrath like a caged, hell-spawned demon starting to rouse from its slumber. It took a few deep breaths, but she quickly reclaimed control over her temper before it could properly heat up and when she felt more in charge of her faculties, she stole a glance at her brother.

Rémy was watching her closely, his light blue eyes cool and alert, as if he wasn't quite sure which version of his sister he'd get when he blinked.

"You okay?" came the wary inquiry.

Frankie nodded once, but said nothing, making her way over to the kitchen where she pulled out a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf above the fridge.

"I suppose it's too much to ask you to use a glass?" Rémy called out, but as expected, his sister tossed the cap onto the counter and brought the bottle to her lips. "If only you'd do that to a bottle of blood," he mumbled disapprovingly to himself, checking his phone as he closed the laptop in front of him. "Alright, breakfast is over. We need to get moving or we'll miss the 4:30."

"Sun doesn't set for a couple of hours. We'll be fine," but he was already on his feet.

"Actually, we won't. They upped the security to get into the north side of Budapest, so we'll need a bit more time than usual. Still working on a quicker work-around," and Rémy took the bottle from her, putting it back in the cupboard.

"What else did I miss while I was gone?"

"A great many things, sister dear."

With his smile once more fixed in its proper place, Rémy offered his arm to Frankie and then led her out of the apartment. Descending down several flights of stairs, they emerged outside into the remnants of the day. While the sun's rays did not affect either of them, both instinctually put on sunglasses as they started to head in the direction of the metro that would take them into what was now the heart of the city.

The history of Budapest had always held some fascination for Frankie – from the early Celtic settlement of Aquincum to the unification between the contemporary Buda and Pest during the 1800s, and then beyond into the last two and a half centuries. It had seen war and peace, captivity and freedom; genocide, dictatorships, prosperity, and horrors the likes of which the world was still reeling from. And yet, despite the current decay of a dissolute world, it had remained – at least under the jurisdiction of Dracula – one of the crown jewels of the European continent.

The metropolis was as sublime and culturally rich as ever, but like the rest of the world, its foundations had already begun to rot and wane. The Chase siblings were fortunate enough to live in what was often referred to as the "west side" – a tolerably safe and cleaner section of the city where the more affluent part of the dwindling middle-class resided. But where the west and northern territories existed often without significant want, the inhabitants in the remaining half of the city had been left in squalor.

The werewolves had been banished to the southern portion of the region, a land that continued to be slowly devoured by the earth with every year that passed – decaying skeletal remains of buildings overwhelmed with all manner of plant life, most of the roads in desperate need of some repair.

But where the wolves at least had the untamable whim of nature to beautify their deceptively desolate fraction of the city, the east side had been neglected to the point of ruin. It was here that much of the original city of Budapest now lingered, familiar landmarks like the old Hungarian Parliament building, the state opera house, and much of the palace district all abandoned and damaged, some beyond reparation – sobering reminders of a time when war and the fear of utter annihilation had been the waking nightmare of so many.

Similar to the lycan territory, it too was experiencing a kind of slow consumption by nature as mother earth gradually reclaimed what had been hers all along. And it was here where the other half lived – humans and nosferatu alike, all struggling to survive in the oldest part of the city – an ultimately lawless land that left much of its inhabitants to consistently struggle without the hope of reprieve.

Where the north and west were hubs of industry and modern advancement, the east had been left to die like the past it represented. Dracula at least had had some respect for the past. It was his own history with the place that had inspired him to claim the city as his own, declaring it a safe-haven for his kind and any others looking for harmony in a world of discord. But under the reign of Marcus Augustine, and in a mere thirty-six years, the city had fallen piece by piece, one district at a time.

And it was in the midst of this decline that the alliance had been born.

Frankie would be the first to declare that their rebellion had next to nothing to do with loyalty to Dracula and what was left of his original court – although having the man as an ally would have been beneficial as their goals seemed very much the same as far as the city was concerned.

No – the alliance at its core had been organized as a means of defending the people against a sociopathic egotist hiding behind a mask of "good intentions." This was not the first time the Chase siblings had chosen to do battle with Augustine, though both Frankie and Rémy privately hoped that this would be the last. By some miracle, they had managed to remain as nameless shadows to the man and they knew from experience that their good fortune would eventually run out.

When their train at last arrived at its destination, the two emerged in contemplative silence. Frankie instinctually moved with the crowd towards the exit, but her brother stopped her before she could get too far ahead, grabbing hold of her elbow with a subtle shake of his head. With a slight motion of his eyes in the direction she had initially been heading, Frankie discovered the exit of the metro lined with security personnel. Those wishing to enter the north side had to pass an invasive inspection, providing a number of identifications that she was certain they did not have.

Knowing that she and her brother were not listed on any city registrar and that exposing that truth proved dangerous for both of them, she lowered her sunglasses, giving Rémy a look.

"Was this one of those things I missed while I was gone? You didn't tell me to bring any ID."

"We're not going that way. Follow me – quick. Before the next train comes," and still holding her hand, he pulled her in the direction of the lavatories down one of the halls.

It took a few minutes of loitering before the coast was clear, but when it was, Rémy made quick work of one of the old tiles that lined the hall, revealing a lever that opened a secret tunnel. They said nothing as they travelled through the darkened corridors, and when they emerged from beneath, it was up through a sewer grate and into an alley way.

"There! Much better than going through all that security," Rémy declared, quite pleased with himself.

"How did you know about the tunnel?"

"I'll tell you later. We need to get to Rob before the nightshift gets in."

A short light rail ride later found them standing in front of one of the taller structures in the metropolis – the VNN building, headquarters to Budapest's government-funded news network, dedicated to regurgitating whatever lies or propaganda Augustine and the council of seven saw fit to bestow upon the people. But hidden within the supposedly abandoned lower levels of that same building was the nerve center of one of the only remaining truth-seeking media outlets in the city: Veritas.

It was a perfect set-up.

Robert Damrau, the chief editor of VNN, was an emphatic alliance supporter, privately opposed to Augustine's administration and the atrocities that had occurred under his rule. Although Rob willfully ran the government's puppet broadcasting network by day, in the shadows, he oversaw every article, video, and advertisement that Veritas published.

And once upon a time, Miss Francesca Chase had been one of his star journalists.

The siblings found Rob waiting for them in the foyer. He was a man of average height, eternally sixty-two years of age with salt and pepper hair that was professionally trimmed. He was a man of detail – nothing ever escaped his notice, which was why when Rémy and Frankie walked into the lobby through the front doors, he was there to greet them almost immediately.

"My dear friends, I am very pleased to see you. I was worried you wouldn't make it in time. The metro security is positively unbearable in the evening, at least when you're trying to get into this part of town. I trust your trip was trouble-free?" the man inquired, warmly shaking Rémy's offered hand.

"No trouble at all," the eldest Chase assured him.

"Francesca, it is a pleasure to see you again, as always," Rob continued, bowing his head in respect towards Frankie, who nodded back. "I hope you are well."

"I understand you have something you'd like to discuss with me?" she cued, not willing to comment on her current disposition. Fortunately, he took the hint and with a gesture of his hand, they began to make their way toward the elevator.

"Come. We'll talk upstairs. It's much quieter there."

Rob's office was located on one of the upper floors of the skyscraper, providing him and his guests with a stunning view of the Budapest skyline with a pink and violet sunset painting the vista along the horizon. When Frankie and Rémy were both comfortably seated, Rob pressed one of the buttons on his watch, activating a device which would scramble any undiscovered bugs that may have been hidden in the room, ensuring their complete privacy. He then rested his hands on the back of his own chair – still standing.

"Naturally it goes without saying that what we are about to discuss here does not leave this room," he began, looking to Frankie. When she quietly nodded, the sign a silent promise of her discretion, he continued. "Six months ago, I was contacted by a man named Antón Bernardini. I believe you know of whom I speak?"

"Yes – he's Dracula's right hand and closest friend. Although my brother informs me that he's been in hiding for the last few years."

"Wrongfully accused of being a traitor and enemy of the state, shortly after his wife was executed," Rob confirmed. "We initially believed that he had managed to find safe passage out of the city, but have recently learned that this is not the case."

"So he's still in Budapest? Where?"

"Living in the west end, apparently, close to the borders of lycan territory, where Augustine is less inclined to go looking. He's been living under a false name, of course – a failsafe he had set up shortly after our king went into stasis."

"What does any of this have to do with me?"

"When he reached out to me, he asked me to put him in touch with your brother," Rob continued, finally taking his seat on the other side of the desk. "Which I did after confirming that all was in order. He had a message that he wanted delivered personally to the alliance."

"And that message is?"

"The Dracul Sânge lives," Rémy said, the words having a noted effect on his sister who looked at him with disbelief.

"But how is that possible? The children of Dracula were assassinated, that organization disbanded. That's why he went into stasis in the first place."

"A ruse on their part, apparently," Rob explained. "According to Signore Bernardini, the children of the dragon still live, the attempt on their lives unsuccessful."

"And they never bothered to tell the king? Decided we were all better off with him in his grief and Augustine seizing control?" She couldn't believe it. "Why have they been in hiding all this while?"

"For fear of the safety of their loved ones."

"But who would be foolish enough to threaten the Dracul Sânge? They're the most elite force of fighters on the planet! They have dragon blood in their veins!"

"Who do you think?" Rémy interjected. "Marcus Augustine."

"You mean Augustine – their uncle, for all intents and purposes – was the one who tried to have them killed?"

"We don't have all the details, but there's rumors that Marcus never meant to murder them at all – just make it seem that way to put down the king. Apparently, he provided them with a strong enough justification to go along with the lie and remain in the shadows – consequences be damned."

"But why?"

"Why else?" Rob asked. "For power. Marcus Augustine has been playing second fiddle to his younger 'brother' for nearly a millennia. He cannot die, he cannot reproduce, and so he is cursed to sit back and watch as Dracula reigns supreme, revered by his people, and feared by the very being who created him."

"The devil."

It was more statement than question.

"Precisely," her brother said. "You see, with Dracula's children out of the way, and with the king in hibernation because of it, that leaves Augustine to rule in his stead – as we all know. And we've all seen what kind of a ruler he is."

"There have been whispers," Rob interjected, "that Augustine has plans to eradicate most, if not the very whole of our kind within the next three years – continuing with the strategic removal of all who oppose him. We've seen what he's done to Dracula's court over the last few decades alone. The few who remain have either switched sides or have gone into hiding, biding their time for the return of the king. But the rest of us…"

"That explains why the virus cropped up after Dracula went under," she said, putting the pieces together. Rob only nodded.

"Thus crippling the populace, shattering any willfulness they might have in the face of his corrupt administration, leaving our current sovereign to do as he pleases – including impeding the success of the dragon."

"It is our belief," her brother chimed in, "that Augustine didn't just want a chance to be king. He needed an opportunity to wipe out all of his enemies – his brother's allies specifically – while he slept. Dracula may not be able to kill Augustine, but he is the only one that we know of that can subdue him."

"Then why was Augustine left to roam free unchecked in the first place? Surely Dracula must know the truth about who he is," Frankie said. "The man may have the reputation of a heartless monster, but he doesn't strike me as a complete and utter fool."

"We do not know for certain. Bernardini says the relationship between those two has been nothing short of complex for generations," Rob clarified.

"I still don't understand what any of this has to do with me."

The two men paused for a moment, exchanging glances as she waited patiently for some sort of explanation.

"Let's just say that Madame Nemo has some loyal fans that yearn for her return," Rob replied with a hint of amusement, though it was evident she was not following his train of thought.

"The Dracul Sânge? What – they want me to write something? What would that accomplish?"

"We have not been given all the details as of yet, but what we do know is this: you will be afforded the unprecedented opportunity to personally interview each individual of the Dracul Sânge. This will allow you to acquire invaluable insight into the workings and history of not only Augustine, but Dracula as well. After the interviews are complete, you would write a series of essays revealing the truth behind not only Augustine's treachery, but his character…"

"A coordinated attack, cutting him to the quick for the world to see," her brother added.

"If we play our cards right and run the stories at the right time, we hope to draw Dracula out of hiding if he is indeed in hiding, ally ourselves with him, and then we take out Augustine together. What do you think?"

Frankie said nothing at first.

She merely stared at the man before her with a mixture of disbelief and horror. Rémy quickly took note of this, and with the grace of a diplomat, he stood from his chair.

"Rob, would you give me a moment alone with my sister, please?"

"Of course," he answered with a degree of confusion, but he stood nonetheless. "I'll be just outside."

The instant he was out the door, Rémy warily looked over at his sister who was still staring in front of her, eyes wide and unblinking, brow slightly knit in concern. He knew that look.

"Frankie, I need you to focus," he began.

The sound of his voice snapped her out of whatever stupor she had been in and she blinked several times as a few tears tumbled down her cheeks.

"I won't do it."

"Frankie, you must."

"I will have nothing more to do with that man," she snapped abruptly, standing as if to leave, but he was quick to block her way.

"Just hear me out…"

"No," and she glared at him, staring directly into his eyes with her naturally piercing gaze. Her irises had begun to glow violet as her temper started to get the better of her. "Since New Orleans, everything associated with that… that demon has brought me nothing but misery. I will not be another man's possession. Not again." But then her steel began to waver and her expression cracked. The fear that was radiating off her was overwhelming. "You cannot ask this of me, Rémy. Please…" and the tears started to fall more freely. "I have lost so much because of that prophecy. So much. I want nothing more to do with it."

Rémy's expression was full of sympathy, but he gently persisted.

"Have you ever considered that maybe the reason why things have happened the way they have might be because you have continued to run from your fate?" he asked her carefully.

"But it should be my choice. Not the whim of some invisible force that controls the universe. I am not an object to be manipulated and controlled; I am a person and I do not want him! I do not want this… I didn't ask for any of this…" and with a trembling hand, she covered her mouth to suppress the angry sob caught in her throat.

How foolish she had been to think she could just move on with life after what had happened. Five years had changed nothing. The hurt was still too deep and the scars on her soul still ached with memory.

"Do you know what will happen if we antagonize Augustine by bringing out the Dracul Sânge?" she suddenly asked him. "Do you know what he will do if we corner him? The same thing that any monster does when it feels threatened. He will lash out. He did it when the prophecy was made and our parents died for it. I…" and her voice broke as more tears tumbled down her cheeks, "You know what Augustine did to me. You know what the repercussions were, how things have never been the same, how I have never been the same. Can you even imagine what that feels like, Rémy? Can you? Even if by some chance I wanted to be with Dracula, because of what Augustine did to me, I…I couldn't even if I wanted to. I can't be with anybody. Not when everybody I get close to dies..."

With great tenderness, Rémy reached out and took his younger sister into his arms as she wept quietly into his shoulder, struggling to keep his own emotions in check so he could be strong for her. When he felt her relax a little in his hold, he took her face in his hands so he could look directly into her eyes.

"I would not ask this of you if I had any other options before me," he whispered. "But this is our last hope. You are our last hope."

"Please, Rémy. Please don't ask me…"

"Francesca, Bernardini reached out to me because the Dracul Sânge wanted to meet with you, not because they wanted to help advance the efforts of the alliance."

This piece of information caught her attention and she studied her brother's face with a puzzled expression.

"Them asking for you directly gives me reason to believe that they too know about the prophecy, that they somehow discovered your part in it, and though they may not fully understand it, they know who you are. Or, at the very least, who you are meant to become – they must know. No other reason makes sense. I haven't met them personally, so I can't exactly attest to their true intentions, but you know me. I would never ask you to do something if it would cause you harm in any way and my gut tells me that the Dracul Sânge reaching out is a good thing. Besides, I believe that they can be of great use to us – whether they intend to be or not."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"What I mean is this. Take the assignment. Agree to meet with the Dracul Sânge and interview them. Get to know them. Gain their trust, their allegiance… make them your creatures. When the time is right, we can use them to draw out Dracula. If he refuses to help us in taking out Augustine, we could use his children as leverage…"

Frankie startled at the suggestion, pulling herself away from him.

"What? You mean threaten their lives if Dracula refuses to help us?" she asked incredulously. "Are you insane?!"

"Not insane… though admittedly a little desperate," he confessed. "You know I never liked the idea of you belonging to him. You are my sister. You deserve better than what any man I've met could give you." He paused, allowing his words to have their intended effect. She calmed a little. "I'm not saying you need to woo Dracula – just his kids. The actual plan hasn't changed," he assured her, carefully wiping the tears from her cheeks. "So long as I live – which, thanks to you is forever, by the way," he added cheekily, "you and I will continue to look for a way around all of this. But for now, for the sake of us all, it's time to put prejudices aside and play the game."

His words had only managed to soothe her on the surface, as deep down a great part of her still detested the idea of doing anything that even remotely related to Dracula or Augustine. Yet, it was soon clear by her expression that she was starting to relent.

"And who knows?" he added lightly. "Maybe his majesty will be so grateful to us for restoring his children to him that once all of this is over, he'll release you from any further obligation and you can be with whatever man you choose. Not that that's ever stopped you before."

"I don't want to think about that now," she admitted, cringing just a little out of embarrassment.

"Yes. It may be best to only focus on the task at hand for the present. So what do you say? Do you consent?"

After some deliberation, Frankie finally nodded her head.

"I'll do it – but on one condition."

"Anything."

"I don't like the idea of using them as leverage…"

"Ah, Francesca, come on!"

"I'm serious, Rémy. It's deceitful and bad form. Promise me you won't even consider it if it comes to that. They are coming to us in good faith – we should at least return the favor."

"I'll think about it – but I'm not committing to anything."

"I suppose that will have to do for the present."

Shortly thereafter, Rob was invited back into the room and Frankie was formally given her assignment. With it came five folders filled with basic information and history on each member of the Dracul Sânge. As Rémy and Rob finished up the conversation, Frankie idly thumbed through the documents with vague interest. For starters, it was clear from the information provided that these "children" were not actually natural-born children of the dragon. Rather, he had adopted them, making them blood of his blood, and therefore bestowing upon them special rights and privileges that came with being a Dracul, as well as a few special abilities that a normal nosferatu did not possess – like unassisted day-walking and an immunity to a few of the other pitfalls the undead faced.

There were five of them still living today – Ezekiel Masthena, Niklaus Van Der Au, Jack Belinskaya, Louise Poincaré, and Tempest Hambly.

"And just to drive the point home," Rob continued, turning his attention to Frankie who then looked up from the files in her hands, "no detail of this assignment is to leave this room. Bernardini made that very clear to me. No one is to know. If our efforts were ever discovered by Augustine or his allies, I think you can imagine the consequences that would ensue."

Frankie paused for a moment as a set of violent images flashed in her mind's eye for a mere instant –

Cloaked men entering a small cottage.

Her father decapitated before her eyes.

The sounds of her mother's screams as she was dragged from the small house and into the breaking dawn.

She flinched at the memories, shuddering visibly as she quickly tried to shake off the unpleasantness that had started to worm its way further into her conscious mind, but she pushed it back, deep and deeper still until she felt more composed, expression returning to a somber apathy.

"Yes, I fully understand the implications, should this get out. I assure you of my brother's and my complete and utter discretion. No ally of Marcus Augustine or the council will ever hear of this, I give you my word," Frankie stated with confidence and that seemed to satisfy both Robert and her brother.

"Good. Then I wish you the best of luck, Frankie Chase. Lord knows how much we need it in these desperate times."

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